Redemption
by project-jay89
Summary: If you were given the chance to change your fate, would you take it? The unfortunate victim of a demon's curse upon the land of Hyrule is certain that he would. Even if the price for a second chance at life is his memories. Highly AU. Contains spoilers for Skyward Sword
1. Prologue

AU- This is going to be a remake of a story I wrote several months ago under the same title. I just knew I could do better so I deleted it and decided to start again. I have no idea how long each chapter will be or even how long the story itself will be. Honestly, it's just kind of writing itself at this point though I _do_ have certain places the plot has to reach and I know how it's going to end.

A Ganondorf x Zelda story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Legend of Zelda or any characters contained within this story unless I express that they are original characters made for the sole reason of moving the plot forward.

****This story contains spoilers for Skyward Sword, Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess. It may also contain spoilers for other games as well (spoilers that are not centric to one game only). Please note that this story is most definitely considered AU. I've only borrowed information from where I deem fit and won't actually be sticking to a true timeline. I've written this story as a 'what if' instead of the story of Twilight Princess.****

* * *

**Redemption: Prologue  
**  
Sometimes he couldn't abide by the trappings of fate. In the deep recesses of his tortured mind he could remember a time when he hadn't been driven by a curse so hideous it transcended time itself. Unending. Unyielding. It whispered in his mind and twisted his thoughts 'round and 'round until he could no longer remember what it felt like to be happy- what it felt like to be normal. The occasional touch of freedom only left a bitter aftertaste so vile he could hardly stand it. Then came the pain. Always the pain. She would be there standing aside her hero and rejoicing the defeat of evil. In the back of his mind he knew she should mourn him. Yet she wasn't his Zelda. This Zelda didn't know that darkness too could have a heart and that long ago a princess much like herself had claimed that poor, beating organ and held it so tight that it had nearly entwined with her own.

The Master Sword was ripped cruelly from his chest and Ganondorf swayed before he careened forward. His breathing ragged, he curled his hands into fists and not for the first time wished that things could have been different. He wouldn't get up. He wouldn't let fate control him. Was it wrong to wish for death? Perhaps. It was the coward's way out but in a moment of temporary lucidity, he sent a prayer to the Goddesses that his life would end that stormy day- that the cycle could be broken. Even as he breathed his last breath he allowed his lips to curl into a sneer of determination that the hero undoubtedly took as the look of a man that had grasped the world in his hands only to lose it. No, he had only grasped suffering and there was nothing to be won from pain and the sharp ache of loneliness.

The throne room began to crumble around him. A sharp crack and chunks of stone fell from the walls. Debris surrounded his limp form and with the last of his fading sight he saw that horrid boy steal away the princess. Neither of them looked back. That ache was back in his chest and it was the last thing he felt before the world went black.

* * *

It would be a long time before he realized that the dark, desolate place he sat in had a name. It was not the Sacred Realm. They had learned that there was no chain in that world that could bind his cursed spirit and the brand of immortality that Power had enforced upon him. The Twilight Realm seemed a fitting end for a man as dark as he even though his own thoughts spoke that it wasn't his fault. The fall of a kingdom had never been the intention of Ganondorf Dragmire. The other voice- the distorted voice of the monster that often slipped in and clawed at his tedious control until it gave away- sneered that he was little more than a bleeding heart looking for acceptance in a world that had none to give. Where was the proud warrior that had killed the king and taken over Hyrule? Ganondorf was quick to ignore the steely jab at his pride. It was always easiest to bury the others influence when his mortal shell was first destroyed. Centuries of the cycle repeating itself had taught him as much.

Contained within that grey world, he was on the brink of losing himself to the demon inside when fate finally gave him a chance. They descended down through the darkness- parting thunder clouds in their wake and forcing the bleakness to retreat and cower in fear of the three beautiful flames; red, blue and green. They spoke in whispers that he found sanctuary in and which drove back the monster- hissing and seething but cowed by the coming of the Goddesses just as well as the Twilight Realm itself did. The monster spoke in the past of the only acceptance coming from his ruthlessness and ability to be recognized for his strength. The Goddesses spoke of offering acceptance of another kind. Would he thus be willing to start over? To be returned to Hyrule without his memories and without the demon that slowly ate his soul? Perhaps not a permanent solution. The curse, after all, still thrived. But nothing tried could be nothing gained.

Ganondorf rather thought that memories were a small price to pay for happiness. He could take the chance.

In the sleepy town of Kakariko, a bomb maker was not born and in his place there would be a blacksmith. He was a giant of a man with dark skin and long, exotic red hair pulled back into a messy braid. Though sometimes he seemed stern, Isaak was a fair man and always seemed ready to welcome his neighbors with the chivalrous offer of fresh tea.


	2. Chapter 1: The Blacksmith's Story

AN- This chapter was unusually fun to write for a first real chapter in a story. Usually this is the largest hurdle for me to jump- introducing the main character and all that. Now, I despise using titles through a chapter to convey timeskips, but in this case it seemed easiest. Bare with it and wince at the sight and feel comforted that I'm doing the same.

A Ganondorf x Zelda story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Legend of Zelda or any characters contained within this story unless I express that they are original characters made for the sole reason of moving the plot forward.

****This story contains spoilers for Skyward Sword, Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess. It may also contain spoilers for other games as well (spoilers that are not centric to one game only). Please note that this story is most definitely considered AU. I've only borrowed information from where I deem fit and won't actually be sticking to a true timeline. I've written this story as a 'what if' instead of the story of Twilight Princess.****

* * *

**Redemption: Chapter 1- The Blacksmith's Story  
**

"...Nasty wound, that. Right through his chest. Shouldn't even be alive." A woman's voice. It seemed so close that he was sure that if he reached out with his right hand he would touch her.

He tried to move. A harsh, shooting pain flowed from his chest, along his shoulder and settled in his arm. "Ughnn." He gasped and, eyes fluttering open, he became acutely aware of the heaviness of his tongue.

"Oh!" The woman turned from her husband in a swirl of scratchy, wool skirts. Farmers, the both of them. The man in the bed followed her as she hastened around him- checking his wound and pulling up blankets to tuck him in again. The very act of pulling on the bandages made him set his jaw firm against the following sting. Dried blood had ensured that it stuck together just ever so nicely. "Sorry, dear." The kindly lady apologized and, of all things, gave him a pat on the head as if he were a child. "Now that you're awake, do you happen to have a name, sweetie?" She seemed to recognize that he'd have issues talking and poured him a glass of water. The man took it gratefully.

"...S' a good question." He was finally able to get out. A headache was starting to form and the more he thought on the subject of himself, the worse the throbbing pain became. Then something broke through- something that had not quite been there before. It seemed, as impossible as it was, that it had been _placed_ for him to find. How silly. It was his own mind! "Isaak. My name is Isaak."

* * *

*****Ten years later*****

"But 'es Gerudo, ain't 'e?"

"Ain't no Gerudo as exists in Hyrule no more 'less they're so deep in the desert ain't no one gonna find 'em!"

"But... but what 'bout Isaak?"

"Dig the shit out o' yer ears! Ain't a male born to Gerudo that ain't been king! That 'ole blacksmith look like a king ta you? Isaak ain't no Gerudo _name_ leastways!"

"Well, a man can change 'is name!"

The soldier rolled his eyes at the man seated next to him. Stationed at the North gates of Kakariko, the lack of daytime (or even nighttime) activity proved little entertainment for the guards. Sat on the grass with their backs against the wooden walls, they munched on chocolate covered grasshoppers and watched the flat landscape of North Hyrule Field and, in the distance, the Bridge of Eldin. It was just a silhouette with rocky terrain past the cavernous expanse that the stone structure bridged. Just shy of the bridge and crossing the puddle-covered field, a cart rolled lazily towards the gates with an old, shaggy Clydesdale pulling it. Isaak, the seemingly hot topic of discussion for the day at the gate, reclined in his seat. Smoke drifted up into the air where he breathed it out around the battered pipe he held clutched between his teeth.

"G'evenin', Isaak." One soldier stood and nodded to the muscular man upon the cart- garbed still in his dirty pants and leather apron from the shop. "No trouble on yer trip, I'll be expectin'?" The soldier gave the blacksmith a somewhat toothless smile.

Isaak grinned back. Plucking the pipe from his lips, he leaned forward. "None that wasn't expected. A few Kargarok's in the distance but they didn't come near." The blacksmith's deep voice was a laid back sort of tone. One had to wonder if he ever spoke swiftly or if he was always so calm. His oddly colored orange eyes shifted to the pile of metal under the canvas tarp behind him. "It's getting a bit late, boys. I'd like to get my materials unloaded and get a bite of dinner before dark." He nodded to the both of them in turn and, flicking the reins, urged the horse forward. The cart gave a gentle lurch before it rolled on through to the village beyond

It was well dark out by the time he was able to settle at the small table in his crude but cozy home. Like all homes in Kakariko, it had seen better days. Still it had a fireplace, a table and a bed and his shop was just through a side door. A man couldn't ask for more. His heart gave a twinge at that even as he looked down at the piece of steak on his plate. He couldn't pass it off as indigestion- Isaak was certain that what he felt was _loneliness._ The tanned man had always assumed that it was caused by the odd notion that the bachelor life didn't quite agree with him. It wasn't a far-fetched thought. Mortals were known to be social creatures and crave such things as love and why should he be any different? Women in the village had expressed interest in him before and, contrary to his urge for companionship, he had turned them down. Odd, that. They were friendly women to be sure but he had the feeling that he was waiting for someone. Such a strange thing for a man that rarely left his village and then only to make the occasional trip to Castle Town to purchase raw materials for his trade. He resolved not to contemplate it further while he cut his steak and took the first bite. He always got a headache when he thought too deeply on himself. Especially matters of the heart.

Isaak went to bed that night with the expectation that he would rise the next morning and make good use of his newly purchased supplies. Fate, however, was a cruel mistress. Had he still his memories he would have known that.

* * *

The blacksmith's eyes snapped open at, as the clock revealed, a quarter to four in the morning. They snapped open... and then they widened in panic. Something was horribly wrong. His head hurt to think on it, but he was certain he'd seen this oddly bleak world before. In his dreams, even. It had the look of a world bled of all its color- all its happiness. Specks of black and grey floated like indestructible dust in the air and each time he grabbed at one to be rid of it, it only dissipated and materialized somewhere else. On his feet in an instant, he tripped over a boot in an effort to pull on his brown, grease-stained pants. Work pants, but they were good enough to cover him. A shirt was hastily thrown on next and the sleeves rolled up from where he had worn it at dinner time. He left it unlaced in the front in favor of making for the door. It was a good thing that the man had a sense of self preservation. With the howling and nightmarish noises coming from beyond the door, he knew without a doubt that wrenching it open would not be wise. Pulling it in a crack, the oversized man stooped to look out. He shut the door just as swiftly. Monsters. Black monsters roamed the streets and the skies.

Orange eyes snapped to the axe hanging proudly above the mantle. It had been one of his best creations a few years back and, while it was a show piece, he _had_ sharpened the blade to give it that extra sense of impressiveness. In this case it was due to become a weapon and he hoped to the Goddesses it would be a damn good _deadly _weapon. Isaak wasted no time in ripping it off the wall and clutching it with his large, calloused hands.

He returned to the door and peeked out one more time. A hand moved to scratch his beard. The street was filled with those Hellish beasts and, to the best of his limited knowledge, they seemed to be _patrolling_. Isaak came to the swift conclusion that they were not mindless animals. If, indeed, animals they could be called. Despite his careful observance of their stalk-like movements, he couldn't distinguish enough of a break in their patterns through which he could escape. Isaak closed the door and slipped into his shop instead.

There was a homeless boy that he often allowed to sleep on the crates in the smithy- close to the fire to keep warm. The gangly teenager was still there, yes, but he was a pale sort of translucent and was cowering in fear _behind_ the crates. "Les!" The blacksmith whispered loudly to the boy. "Les!" He called louder the second time and hastily looked to the door- paranoid and quite against unwanted visitors. When it seemed no one was going to come bursting in, he knelt in front of the teenager and went to shake his shoulder. His hand went through him and touched the wall behind the boy's form. Isaak pulled his trembling hand back as if he had been burned and backed away from the sight. A nightmare- it was nothing but a fucking nightmare.

The door to the smithy burst open with a resounding crash- scattering shields hung on the walls and tools alike in its wake. A gnarled, black hand grasped the door frame so tightly that it cracked and splintered. Isaak grasped the axe he held in both hands despite how they shook. He had the feeling he had been in battles before his memories had been lost and he had woken up in the home of those kind farmers a decade ago- the wound he had woken up with was testament enough to his former state as a warrior. One was not simply impaled by a broadsword or any such weapon for no reason. Still, faulty, vague recollections did not prepare him for the flat faced, off balanced creature that squeezed through his doorway. It ended up quite stuck half way through and, roaring, reached out with one long, muscled arm for his head. He ducked it. Scrambling across the room, the man saw no choice but to leave the building and face whatever was outside. He could risk death out there or be _sure of it_ by staying in his own home. All but flying from the shop to his house through the side door, Isaak crashed his own way out through the second exit.

Two more of those flat faced creatures with tentacles for hair awaited him outside. Shadow Beasts, he would simply learn to call them soon enough but for the time being, nameless, all he could think of was not getting killed. He swung wide with the axe he held. It went through the creature, but it went through as a stick would through water. He couldn't kill them. The Shadow Beast roared and, again, the blacksmith was forced to outrun them. He could see a golden wall in the distance- flashing and swirling with runes and tribal designs. A dead end. He made to turn his back to it and face his enemy head on only to find that one of them was upon him already. Eyes widening in obvious surprise, he gasped as the air was forced from his lungs with a swift whack to his chest of one of those giant, black hands. Off balance and not nearly the physical strength of his enemy, he was cast backwards towards the wall... and fell through into South Hyrule Field.


	3. Chapter 2: Heroes Don't Exist

AN- Clearly I have changed things to suit my needs. As I said, this isn't really going to follow any true timelines and events. I'm using things as I see fit. I had already warned that this story was going to be VERY AU so if you have issues with the content, please note that you WERE forewarned. Aslo, this chapter is shorter than the last. I'm building up for Chapter 3 in which our main characters _will_ meet! So be looking out for that with the next update!

A Ganondorf x Zelda story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Legend of Zelda or any characters contained within this story unless I express that they are original characters made for the sole reason of moving the plot forward.

****This story contains spoilers for Skyward Sword, Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess. It may also contain spoilers for other games as well (spoilers that are not centric to one game only). Please note that this story is most definitely considered AU. I've only borrowed information from where I deem fit and won't actually be sticking to a true timeline. I've written this story as a 'what if' instead of the story of Twilight Princess.****

* * *

**Redemption- Chapter 2: Heroes Don't Exist**

Lightning flashed overhead- illuminating dark, ominous clouds. Hyrule Castle had long since been overtaken by the Twilight and the princess could only be thankful it had not extended into the town. Yet. There were murmurs in the dark halls outside of her tower prison that Kakariko had succumbed easily- Eldin far too weak to withstand the onslaught and hold it at bay. The town had fallen within a night and over three quarters of its citizens had been reduced to fearful, sniveling souls. Over time, she knew, they would mutate into the creatures that hunted them and would cease to exist as Hylians. Zelda mourned for those lost souls.

The castle itself had fallen swiftly in a bloodless coup- the self proclaimed King of Twilight had won by simply parting his cursed lips and speaking the promise of death upon the occupants of Hyrule unless she surrendered. So she had. Zelda, if she thought particularly hard on the events, could even recall in the clear clang of her sword as it hit the stone floor of the lavish throne room. Her father dead, she had been in no position to play warrior queen when the title itself had not even been bestowed upon her. The bearer of Wisdom was no fool- surrender or die seemed her only options and she had chosen what was best for her people. Or so she had assumed. Though it had become painfully clear that those taken by the Twilight were submitted to a fate worse than death. To fight and have her people die would have been a mercy killing.

There was something decidedly off about the Usurper King. A member if the race of Twili, it was expected that he would be a dark soul when it came down to it, but he exceeded those expectations by leaps and bounds. It seemed as if there was something evil clinging to his soul- a rotten, festering darkness that consumed him. Every day he became less and less reasonable and more difficult to deal with. Madness. Pure and unbound madness. The first day he had come to her seemed tame in comparison to his ways in the present day. She had thought him crude, yes, but now his viciousness knew no bounds. Sometimes she wondered if it was the Dark King Ganondorf behind that awful armor. Zant, after all, never showed his face. In the back of her mind she knew it wasn't true. Zant did not control Power. Oh, he controlled _something_ of an immense power, but it was not a piece of the Triforce. No, he controlling it was not the proper term. Whatever it was most certainly controlled _him._

"He wasn't there. You said he'd be there." The imp spat- her head preceding the rest of her through the wall to Zelda's room. Midna's shadowy form solidified and she crossed her arms over her white chest with her lip curled into a sneer. "_Wisdom_. Such good that it does!"

Zelda turned. "The visions spoke that the hero would show himself with the coming of Twilight." She seemed so adamant- sure of her Sight. So much so that she pressed her perfect, pink lips into a thin line and set to pacing the stone floor. The room was not large and restlessness made for a far greater torture than imprisonment itself. Zant, the arrogant fool, had left the door open to her room- an excuse to taunt her each day by dangling freedom in her face though she _knew_ that there were guards stationed at the bottom of the spiral staircase. That was the beautiful thing about a tower as a prison; there was ever only one exit unless one wished to jump out the window. At such heights that would be certain death.

Midna snarled and, suddenly, she was in front of the princess- a tiny, slender index finger pointed at her face. Her free hand rested upon her hip. "Well, he _didn't_. You should check with your Goddesses again, _princess_. Their version of Fate is faulty." With that her floating form fled to the door- disappearing out into the hall and, ultimately, through the walls to the floor below just as a lizalfos stuck his head in through the open door. His brutish, dinosaur-like face swiveled to check the room. Zelda pursed her lips. Eventually the creature gave her a narrowed glare and stalked off. The princess sunk onto the edge of her bed and wrapped her trembling hands within her black cloak. The hero had not come. There was no hero. Courage was missing. Zelda had little choice, then, but to handle matters on her own. "Goddesses have mercy upon my soul for what I must do." She breathed before a sob caught in her throat. One glove-clad hand raised to stifle it.

* * *

"Ughnn." A groan and Isaak rolled over on the dusty road. One large hand came up to rub at the lump on the back of his head and he could only be thankful that he had a thick head of hair in which to hide it. Half lidded, tired eyes fell upon the barrier of Twilight surrounding Kakariko. Isaak swallowed thickly. The whole village was gone to whatever that evil magic _thing_ was. It took him only a moment to get to his feet and hasten to pick up the large, ornate battleaxe he had pilfered from his own shop. It slipped perfectly through a loop in his belt for ease of carrying.

There was simply no way he was going to knowingly enter back into that world of living nightmares. No weapon he wielded could hurt the creatures contained within and he rationalized that to return would be little more than a suicide mission. Perhaps there was a way to force it to recede but it would take time and time, he knew, was one of the things that the people in there did not have. They would be destroyed soon enough. It was clear that the shadow beasts could see the ghostly forms of the Hylians and that the Hylians could see them as well. The only thing that puzzled him was how they could not see _his_ form when the shadow beasts could.

He was making a slow path to cross the South part of the field and enter into the East side when a wondrous, curious question entered his thoughts. Why had _he himself_ not been turned into a ghostly form? Perhaps he had. He assumed the Hylians like poor Les who he had left cowering behind that crate could not see themselves as specters. Still, if he were like them then they would have been able to see him. That alone implied that he had _not_ been turned. Either way he had questions and with no home to return to, he had the choice of going to Ordon or Castle Town. With the threat that had overtaken Kakariko, Isaak felt that the prudent choice would be to notify officials at the castle of the unfortunate occurrence and see what they planned to do about it. Isaak was not an overly emotional man- something about his personality would not allow for him to panic in dire situations. He may not have had his memories, but some sort of experience still sang in his veins- battle experience, he knew it must have been by the expert way he had wielded that axe against the Shadow Beast despite the way the creature had absorbed the hit as if it were nothing. Yet outside of the Twilight, even as he could see many enemies gathering in the fields, he knew he stood a good chance of surviving his small adventure.

Idly, as the first Bokoblin attacked, he couldn't help but wish he had had the foresight to take his horse.


	4. Chapter 3: A Destiny Changed

AN- Sorry for the wait on this one. I've been working quite a bit lately and just haven't had the time to write. This is a quick chapter so I apologize in advance for the drop in quality _and_ the drop in length.

A Ganondorf x Zelda story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Legend of Zelda or any characters contained within this story unless I express that they are original characters made for the sole reason of moving the plot forward.

****This story contains spoilers for Skyward Sword, Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess. It may also contain spoilers for other games as well (spoilers that are not centric to one game only). Please note that this story is most definitely considered AU. I've only borrowed information from where I deem fit and won't actually be sticking to a true timeline. I've written this story as a 'what if' instead of the story of Twilight Princess.****

* * *

**Redemption: Chapter 3- A Destiny Changed**

Isaak was vaguely aware of his face impacting a cold, damp stone floor with excessive violence. Unneeded violence. _Unwanted_ violence. He hissed in pain as his head struck a particularly sharp rock and raised a hand to feel the little cut as it bled down onto his forehead. A bleary, orange eyed glare was thrown in the direction of the bulblin troops that had cast him into his dreary cell. It had taken a surprising four to control his subdued form. Even the king of the little beasts had hesitated to attack the man. Isaak cut an imposing figure with his impressive, two handed battle axe, and it was no wonder that the enemy had suffered great losses before sheer numbers had eventually overwhelmed the giant of a man. Captured, the blacksmith had thought himself as good as dead but the enemy had again hesitated, with his great weapon raised, and grunted to the smaller bulblins that, evidently, he was to be their prisoner.

Blindfolded, the trip along bumpy roads on the back of a Bulbo had proved exceedingly disorienting and by the time they had reached their destination and the blindfold was removed, he was already in the musty halls of an underground dungeon.

A loud clang and the cell door was closed. Isaak rose on cautious legs to his feet- swaying slightly as he felt the blood rush back through all his limbs. Curiously, the wound on his head had stopped bleeding already. It proved little to think on. As far as he knew, he had always had inhuman healing. Large, calloused hands curled around the bars of his cage and he was instantly aware that he was back in _that_ world. A shadow world.

"It's called the Twilight Realm." A childish voice cut through the odd gloom and Isaak turned swiftly on his right heel- eyes wild and prepared to fight. The hands he had curled into fists loosened at the sight of the odd little imp. Opening his mouth to speak, he clamped it shut when she emitted a mischievous giggle. "You looked curious." Midna floated up to eye level and looked him over. "Wouldn't happen to be in the _hero_ business, would you?" She smirked- showing sharp fangs.

Isaak returned that look with a cautious one and though, despite the fact that she was in his face, he didn't back down from what was an obvious challenge. A test of courage. "I..."

Midna waved her hand to stop him. "Nevermind. You'll do. If you can escape, that is." She dematerialized only to appear again outside in the empty hallway.

Isaak's lip curled into a sneer. The imp was a presumptuous, self-centered brat but he wasn't about to bite the hand that fed him. She was offering freedom. Still, he could only wonder at what price she would ask for in return for her aid. Such as it was. Reaching for those bars again, he glanced up long enough to see her smug expression fall as his iron cage gave away under his massive, inhuman strength. There were so many things about himself that he didn't understand and while he wondered if he ever would, Isaak did have to grudgingly admit that those abilities came in handy on occasion. Such as this one as he simply bent the bars of his cell and, once they were wide enough, stepped through. "Where is this?" His next question came with a stern tone. He wouldn't be talked down to- he may have been a peasant but he was not stupid. She had no right.

Midna seemed to recognize that while she had not gained the fabled Hero if Time, she had certainly gained _something_ and that something was... impressive. "Hyrule Castle. Or what's left of it." She answered with grudging respect. "Why didn't you turn into a beast when you came here?" The imp blabbed. Her eyes narrowed.

The blacksmith could only shrug. "I don't know."

* * *

The Twilight Realm was a dangerous, miserable place as Isaak was soon to learn. His axe returned from where it had been haphazardly thrown into a dungeon armory, he let it hang from his belt as they traversed the winding, confusing paths of the waterways and old catacombs. Leaving them proved particularly interesting while the upper levels of the castle was practically crawling with guards and he so difficult to hide with his hulking, seven foot tall frame and flaming red hair.

Midna was leading him up instead of down and Isaak was sure she would be the death of him. Escape was the first thing on the blacksmith's mind, as it should be, and she was traipsing about the castle as if on a lovely weekend cart ride. Those enemies that fell to his blade were pulled into dark corners. It wouldn't buy him much time between whatever the imp's task was and discovery, was a small measure of time was better than none at all. Eventually, however, his luck was destined to run out.

Midna swept through a partially open door at the top of one of the castle's many towers- leaving Isaak to follow at a slower pace. He paused when the door creaked and endeavored to push it open with better gentleness. The sight which greeted him on the other side of the door was... startling to say the least.

Princess Zelda, sat at her vanity and brushing her hair, wore the pained expression of one who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. The creak of the door made her blue eyes snap up. The reflection in her mirror proved an illusion, she thought at first. Until she turned. Ignoring Midna's startled look, Zelda's face turned thunderous as she advanced on the blacksmith. "You! Vile creature! You're behind all this!" An accusing finger was raised.

Isaak backed off. "What? No! What in the name of the Goddesses are you blathering on about, woman?" He roared. "Is this my thanks for rescuing you?" He'd assumed that was his task, at least. Why else would Midna lead him to a tower near impossible to leave if they were discovered? It appeared his carelessly raised voice was enough to prompt that discovery. Hurried footsteps started up the stairs from the floor below. Isaak swore viciously and grabbed Zelda's wrist. "Din, woman. It isn't as if I'm _killing_ you!" She had cried out at his touch. Isaak was forced to lift her bodily into his arms to force her out the door- setting her on her own two feet in the hallway. "Run, damn you!" He urged her to follow him as he charged headlong into the oncoming enemy with his axe raised- gripped tightly with both of his powerful hands.


	5. Chapter 4: Immediate Aftermath

AN- I've been looking at my writing style lately and made some changes according to how _I've_ changed as a writer. Hopefully those changes will have helped the story.

A Ganondorf x Zelda story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Legend of Zelda or any characters contained within this story unless I express that they are original characters made for the sole reason of moving the plot forward.

****This story contains spoilers for Skyward Sword, Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess. It may also contain spoilers for other games as well (spoilers that are not centric to one game only). Please note that this story is most definitely considered AU. I've only borrowed information from where I deem fit and won't actually be sticking to a true timeline. I've written this story as a 'what if' instead of the story of Twilight Princess.****

* * *

**Redemption: Chapter 4- Immediate Aftermath**

He felt the telltale pressure building in the back of his head that signaled an oncoming migraine. Gritting his teeth, he leaned back against the stone wall of the ruins behind him and set a large, calloused hand against his right temple. Their escape from Hyrule Castle had not been the most enjoyable of events and Isaak was even loathe to call it worth it. The woman, despite his efforts, still regarded him with cool indifference though all the same he could not say that he had enjoyed her outright hostilities any better. No, if given the chance he would certainly take her silence.

After her accusations she had spoken little else to him and had allowed the blacksmith to charge through the castle. In the end there had been too many enemies even for a man of Isaak's build and strength and, cornered, Zelda had been forced to intervene- using her own formidable powers. In the end they _had_ escaped... if just barely. A horse had been swiftly stolen and, grasping the arm of her dark savior, Zelda had been pulled through the barrier of Twilight and out into Hyrule Field- the Bridge of Eldin a resolute and strong monument in the distance. It had been an appropriate reminder of objects that had stood the test of time only out of sheer determination and she had been forced to remind herself that while her savior seemed to have good intentions, he may yet prove himself untrustworthy. She, in turn, had to build her resolve to not allow his seemingly innocent nature to wear down her defenses. Like the Bridge of Eldin, she had to remain strong. Her kingdom depended upon it.

"We had made a deal that so long as I remained his prisoner, Zant would not seek the total destruction of Hyrule. You've made a grave error if you assume 'saving me' has saved this land. You've doomed it." The princess spoke as they sat to dinner that night before an open fire- bowls of crude stew in hand prepared from the surrounding vegetation. The Twilight Occupation had left many farms abandoned and so it had been little issue to find nourishment. Zelda had still pursed her lips yet she said nothing on the matter. Sometimes it was necessary to break rules.

Isaak looked up- startled. "Well. I think that's the most words you've strung together since you accused me of being... evil? Was that it? I find it hard to remember considering shortly after that we were fighting for our lives." He'd left his pipe in Kakariko and be damned if he wanted to go back into that Twilight infested Hell hole to get it. Still, his irritability proved that he was in tobacco withdrawal. Zelda didn't quite deserve the scathing remarks that sat on the tip of his tongue. That tongue darted out to wet his lips before he set his jaw firm. A truce needed to be called, even ground needed to be found, if they planned to make it through alive. "It's the imp's fault. How was I to know we were making a daring rescue when she didn't see fit to divulge information? Funnily enough, I haven't seen her since we were nearly overrun by Moblins."

Zelda's eyes darted to the poorly bandaged wound about his middle. He'd taken a sword to the side and with no means to work on it, had been forced to remove his shirt and wrap it with that instead. Blood was already starting to soak through. "You need medical attention." The soup she held was tolerable at best and worry for her situation gave her a lack of appetite. So it rested in her hands to provide heat only for that cold night. Huddling closer to the fire, the princess pressed her lips firm when the man didn't seem to answer her at first. She wondered if he was simply going to brush off what should have been an obvious conclusion- when one gets hurt, they seek medical attention.

A red eyebrow was raised. "And where will I get this 'medical attention'? I doubt we'll be welcomed back to Castle Town, princess. We're fugitives if you didn't notice."

The princess frowned. "Of course I did, you great fool. Come here. _I'll _do it." She motioned him closer.

He stiffened. A smirk played upon his lips. "I thought you didn't trust me."

She huffed. "One must look at matters logically. My powers are great, but yours are equally so and you clearly have more training in the art of battle. I need you now to survive."

Isaak's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Good to know I'm wanted." He slid closer- standing to move from his side of the fire to sit beside her. "...Do I have such skills? I _thought_ I was doing well, you know. Yes... I thought so. Not that I'd know from past experiences. Not really. I've never gone to war." He paused and opened his mouth as if he wanted to continue. Zelda tilted her head as a sign that he should, so he did. "I haven't one memory before ten years ago. My body is scarred, however, and so I could conclude that I'd been in battle before. But how, where? No. None of that." He shook his head- wincing slightly when she peeled the ruined shirt away from the wound. Blood had dried and made it stick. With the wound still so fresh, it was understandably tender.

Zelda chose not to speak on the matter of his memory loss and settled in to concentrate on the work at hand. After all, it would not do to believe what could be lies. With no means of discerning the truth, it seemed only an unlikely and _convenient_ story. She had no use for liars. Though, despite her ideals, she couldn't help but see a sense of loss in his orange eyes. It was often said that the eyes were the windows to the soul and for all his attempts at bravado, those smirks and smiles never quite reached his eyes.

"Princess...?" Isaak inquired as to her hesitation.

She held her head high. "Simply not as bad as it looks." She let her gently glowing hands hover over the wound. It would not seal it perfectly, no, but it would do a great deal to help.

* * *

The sun shone brightly- a beautiful day despite the desperateness that had settled in the princess' heart the night before to see the Twilight spreading- stretching outward from Castle Town and taking up part of the field around it in each direction. They had been forced to cross the Bridge of Eldin in the early hours of the morning to escape it.

"Legends speak of a sword that can cut through darkness and smite evil into the dark depths of the Sacred Realm." Isaak intoned. They stood upon the ledge of one of the large cliffs past the bridge- looking down upon the lengthening Twilight.

Zelda's head whipped around to him. "Only those worthy can wield it." Her voice was calm but her heart hammered in her ribcage. Did the Gerudo plan to try and take it? Foolish. The guardians would never let him into the Sacred Grove and-

Isaak's near sarcastic snort drew her from her thoughts. The man ran a calloused hand across his bearded chin. "Everyone knows that. It's part of the legend, after all, isn't it?" He turned from the sight of the castle. Nothing really had changed- the evil was spreading and that was that. They could stand there all day and watch it but it wouldn't solve anything. "In any case, we need to find somewhere so we can get you clothes. An abandoned farm house would do it, I suspect. Pants, boots... anything to get you out of that unholy dress." He didn't have anything against dresses, not truly, but they weren't practical for travel purposes. "...And it makes you stand out like a sore thumb. Your hair will need to be cut too."

The princess pursed her lips but didn't complain. He was, unfortunately, right. Now that she was free, to return would not be to go back to her tower prison- they'd kill her. Thus, as Isaak walked away, she followed by lifting her skirts from the dusty road just enough to walk freely. Lake Hylia was nearly in sight. A home near the bridge that crossed over it would have to do.

* * *

She hadn't been able to help that single tear that escaped when he hacked off her hair. Though she could console herself that her face was still feminine, her golden locks had been reduced to an unevenly chopped mess. It still reached her shoulders but hung in uneven strands. To give the man a small measure of credit, Isaak _had_ winced when he made the first cut... and every consecutive one after that with the sharp kitchen knife he'd found in the home. Now, the job done, he sat grasping a clump of her hair and looked rather pale for a man of such dark complexion. Like any woman would think, she viciously hoped he felt sorry for doing what he did. Never mind that it had been necessary.

"Well." Zelda spoke as she dusted stray, loose strands from her shoulders and tried not to watch them fall to the floor. "Well. We're wasting time, Isaak." Her briskness was a coping method and she knew it- and she felt weak for needing it. She was a strong, independent woman. It seemed silly she should feel vanity as she did and have such pride, no _had_ such pride, in her hair. It was only hair. It would grow back. It _would_.

From across the blue expanse of Lake Hylia, the desert burned golden and Isaak caught himself staring at it. In an odd moment of recollection, he could remember the feel of sand between his bare toes and how the hot sun kissed his face. Had he ever been there? They said the Gerudo were extinct and had been for... too long. Longer than his lifetime, surely. No, his thoughts were mistaken. No doubt his mind was grasping at straws- trying to make sense of a past he would never remember. "I want to avoid the lake. We could get boxed in down there if they find us." The blacksmith motioned that they should move. They hastened, as such, to cross the bridge and keep going.

* * *

**AN:** Wheeew! That's another one done! So! It seems like Isaak has had his first moment of clarity regarding his memories and he's passed it off as nothing. I'm thinking he should probably be listening to his own thoughts...


End file.
